The Match Maker
By Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins
A Batman Adventures Fanfic
Disclaimer: Batman and all subsequent characters are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing. Nothing I tell you! No money was made from this fic.
Summary: Detectives Bullock and Montoya are about to have a Valentine's Day they'll never forget thanks to the Joker. Sexual situations and language.
She tried to relax and just let Bullock do his thing. But the Joker was there, watching every move. How could she not tense up? At least Bullock's bulk let her hide from the clown's prying eyes. She didn't have to work very hard at hiding and for some reason felt somewhat safer under him.
Bullock tried his best to be gentle. But she was tense, hell, HE was tense and so things weren't as smooth or as pleasant as he would have liked. He pushed in again, each movement evoking a primitive thrill. Bullock couldn't help it. Sex was sex in the end. Somehow, granted, it'd taken work, but he'd managed to completely zone out the Joker. It was just him and Montoya. She moved under him, responding to his thrusts in the way a woman should respond to a man. He groaned and shuddered and she answered in back bending twists and moans. They sweated and panted and moved together.
He noticed that she clung to him reflexively, drawing him down even closer. She burrowed her face into his shoulder. She was a strong-minded woman and such kinds of submission were always withering. She began to tremble in his arms and it took a moment for him to realize that she was crying silently.
Shit! His own ego took a stab for that. His mind was forced back into the now. Damn the Joker to hell! How was he supposed to face Montoya after this? It was still rape in his mind, even though she'd taken him in hand and pushed him in herself. It took everything he had to keep from pulling out and calling it quits. But he feared the consequences of fouling up the Joker's sick plans. He closed his eyes. Bullock never had to concentrate on keeping from going limp before. Closing out images of the Joker and of a sobbing Montoya helped, if only minutely. If he ever got out of this alive, he was going to go get seriously drunk after all was said and done.
It took longer then usual to peak, if only because of all of the extenuating circumstances. He wanted to ask her if she would be much longer, but was afraid of saying anything at all. For all he knew, she was too tense to get anything from it. He kept trying to fool himself by saying it was all because of the Joker. But even he knew better. Bullock felt her tense up even more, if that was possible. Her back arched and she couldn't suppress a groan in response.
Bullock pulled out immediately but stayed there on top of her, acting as a shield against the Joker. He didn't know what to do. She was still clutching at him, but at least she'd stopped trembling.
"Montoya?" He whispered into her ear uncertainly.
She shook her head, reluctant to face him.
She squeezed him in response, but wouldn't lift her head so he could see her face. He sighed guiltily. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
"Well now, I'd say we had a rather climactic evening, didn't we?" The Joker piped up from only inches away.
"Get the hell away!" Bullock forgot himself and popped Joker in the nose with his fist. Then he realized his error and turned whiter then the Joker as he held out the offending fist like it would explode. "Oh shit! I-I-I-"
Blood dribbled down the Joker's overly pronounced snout. But instead of the vengeful reaction he expected, the Joker began to snicker. It bubbled and grew into a full-blown braying laugh. The clown prince of crime had to wipe a tear from his eye as he tried to unsuccessfully stem the over zealous bleeding nose.
"My dear Montoya, you can get dressed now." The Joker managed between giggles.
Montoya lifted her head. Bullock didn't comment on the blotchy and streaked mess that ran down her face from crying. She looked like she hadn't heard the Joker right and stayed as if glued to her place.
"Get out of here while you can." Bullock urged her.
She finally stared up at him, eyes all red. Her hair was all in disarray. Her expertly applied make up was now a shambles.
"I'm serious, Montoya. Get out of here!"
Bullock tried to smile, but only managed to grimace instead, "Beat it."
Montoya nodded dully and slithered out from under Bullock in a rather unwomanly like fashion. But she was going more for speed rather then modesty. Of course, it was difficult to be modest when you were fully naked and just had exhibitionist sex. Clothes were hastily thrown on. One look back, then she was quite literally shoved out the door by the Joker.
"Don't worry, Bullock. She's allowed one phone call then she's free to go." The Joker replied calmly as if Bullock hadn't just given him a bloody nose.
Bullock didn't look like he wanted to believe him, but what choice did he have?
"What the hell happens now?" Bullock wanted to know. He didn't trust the Joker one bit and had a nasty image of Montoya being manhandled just on the other side of that door. Of course, what had HE just done to her? Bullock sighed once more.
The Joker grinned. "Why, whatever do you mean, Bullock?" The crazy clown approached Bullock and before he knew it, the cop had his hands cuffed behind his back.
It took everything for the cop to not tackle the evil swine.
The Joker shook his head, "Manners, Bullock. What, no 'thank you for a wonderful evening?' I just set you up with a chick that you'd NEVER been able to score with on your own. This one night of love and the both of you treat it like it was spending a night in hell. Was she really THAT bad a lay, Harv?"
Bullock grit his teeth and balled his fist, trying not to rise to the bait. It was difficult to be intimidating when you were naked, even when you out bulked your foe by a hundred pounds or more. "Leave her out of this, I'm warning you!"
"But she's the whole reason I set up this latest… escapade." The Joker responded.
"Um, what?" Bullock didn't have to pretend to be mystified.
"Valentine's Day, fat boy. You lucky stiff, your name came up on my list!" The Joker said almost companionably, "So I thought what better way to spend my Valentine's Day then with my two most favorite cops in Gotham?"
"I'll kill you for this one day, I swear to friggen GOD! You made me hurt her!" Bullock nearly screamed at him.
The Joker raised his hand up and tutted Bullock. "You had free will for the duration of tonight's events."
"Like HELL! What about Barbara?" Bullock wanted to know.
The Joker let out a fresh bark of laughter.
"What's so friggen funny you freak?"
The Joker snickered uncontrollably, "Never here. Never."
"What? But her voice… over the walkie-talkie." Bullock was very confused.
"Harley called her over the phone. You heard Harl put her walkie-talkie over the receiver was all. She's safe and sound back at dear ole' dad's. God, I'm such a genius! Long distance torture!" The Joker burst into a gut wrenching laugh, "Reach out and kill someone!"
Bullock nearly spat at him, "You are so lucky she's okay or else you'd be dead now!"
But the Joker just laughed some more and grabbed him up, hauling him right off the gurney. Bullock landed hard and off balance, but the Joker kept a tight hold of him and shoved him out of the room, still keeping a tight grip on him and laughed his ass off as they walked.
He didn't struggle. Bullock allowed himself to be led quietly, if only because he was still trying to digest the past events of the night. It still didn't make any sense to him. But maybe it just wasn't meant to. Since when did anything the Joker set out to do have to have a rhyme or reason? They came to a door and stopped.
"Be a good cop and wait right here." The Joker commanded.
Bullock actually did as he was told and waited as the Joker unlocked the door. He opened the door and with a big grin on his face, shoved the big cop out the door and into the cold, wet night. The door was slammed shut and he heard the mechanism lock.
Stunned, Bullock looked around him, noting he was now outside the compound. It was probably well past midnight by now. Also the rain had started up again. He was effectively stranded. Wonderful. A perfect end to a perfect night.
He had to get out of there. The Joker had left him cuffed. A further indignation and completely intentional, Bullock was certain. He was also still in the buff. Well, at least the Joker had let Montoya scrape up what was left of her dignity and allowed her to dress.
Bullock began walking, ignoring the steady drizzle that had his hair totally soaked. He wondered if Montoya actually was allowed to leave. Should he go back and make sure? What could he possibly do if he did? He didn't have a gun anymore. All he had was his fists and that hadn't done a hell of a lot of good, of course, they were both cuffed together now, so that sort of buggered that.
He was temporarily blinded by the twin beams of headlights as they fell on him. When he opened his eyes again, he stared at the hood of a car that had apparently been waiting for him. Ambush? Bullock thought wildly and dove for the nearest cover which happened to be between a massive trash bin and the wall. His heart sped up again and he tried to figure out how he could take down an enemy with his hands cuffed behind his back. Bullock leaned up against the filthy trash bin and waited to be set upon.
That shout gave him pause. He took a few breaths in an attempt to force his heart back down his throat. "Montoya?"
"Get in the car! Hurry!"
Thank God! A rescue! He moved out from behind his hiding spot, hunched over, fully aware of his nudity. Ah screw it! He made a run for the car. The back passenger door opened and he slid into the backseat, fully soaked and fully ready to get the hell out of there.
He saw it was Barbara behind the wheel and Montoya was beside her. His mouth was clamped shut and he couldn't meet Montoya's gaze. He sat there dripping on the seat, sitting there awkwardly because of the cuffs, exposed and vulnerable. It was insane. He hadn't felt vulnerable in front of the Joker. But now, being in the car alone with two women he knew very well, naked and guilty of raping one, he did. Bullock sat there, hunched over and cursing himself for being so weak to have given into the Joker's wiles.
Thankfully neither Montoya nor Barbara spoke a word. He imagined Montoya had most likely told all to the Commissioner's daughter. Both probably totally despised him by now. It wouldn't surprise him in the least. So he sat in the back, waiting for the ride to be over, waiting for his life to be over.
He supposed he could always transfer. It wasn't like he had any family ties that kept him in Gotham. The Gordon's were the closest things to family he had there and he suspected that was going to be gone as well. He wouldn't blame them at all either. He was so screwed and knew it.
The entire ride, he kept waiting for Montoya to say something. To yell at him, berate him, cry… anything. But she didn't turn around once after they had drove away. He watched the back of her head. She wasn't watching the scenery, she wasn't paying attention to Barbara… she might as well have not even been there in the first place. He began to wonder if he should even bother returning to work at all. He could always call in sick, wait for Gordon to return from DC and then put in his transfer. Sounded like a plan.
At long last they arrived at Bullock's residence.
During the ride, he had managed to bring his arms forward by swinging them under his legs. He didn't want to be left out there again cuffed, even if he was home.
"Keys." Bullock said simply and raised his cuffs up into both girls' view as they turned around.
Wordlessly, Montoya fished out a cuff key from the depths of her purse. She freed him without looking at him once. Bullock rubbed his wrists as she placed the cuffs into her purse. Bullock didn't even wonder that she seemed to have done so out of habit. It was a cop thing, after all.
A thank you seemed very inadequate. More was needed, but he couldn't think of anything to say, no apology great enough to matter. And besides, he didn't want to do it in front of Barbara. So he slid out of the car, still as naked as when he first got in. But at least he was free, as well as Montoya and Barbara. It was a good thing it was so late or else he would have had second and third thoughts about getting out of the car at all without a stitch of clothes on.
He spent a sleepless night alone with unpleasant thoughts. Dawn arrived all too soon and he had to decide on whether or not he'd even show up to work that day. It hardly seemed worth it. Montoya had seen enough of him the previous night, she didn't deserve to be subjected to him again all day the next day. So he lay there in bed with his boxers on, staring up at the discolored ceiling tile. Screw it, screw it all.
No way was he going to move to the west coast. He was as east as they came. Maybe he should make some calls… see who had some Detective slots open. He'd never been terribly picky. Hell, he'd even go to New Jersey if it came down to it.
A knock on the door. Bullock lay still, his arm thrown up over his eyes as he willed the person to leave. A moment passed, he lifted his arm. Well, that'd been easy.
The knock was repeated, louder this time and managed to sound impatient.
"Christ!" Bullock spat and rolled out of bed. He trudged his way to the door unconcerned that he was just in his underwear. Let the disturber of his peace beware, he thought sourly and opened the door. "Jeeze, Montoya?"
It looked like Montoya had gotten a few hours sleep. Definitely had gotten in a shower sometime. Bullock was suddenly self-conscious of his lack of dress even though she'd seen him in even less not five hours ago. His eyes dropped, very aware of her crisply pressed officer blues and neatly arranged hair and make up.
"Johnson was going to look for you when you didn't show. I volunteered to. I had a feeling…" Montoya said quietly and shrugged.
Bullock backed into his apartment, retreating. Silent, guilty.
Montoya invited herself in and closed the door, not wishing for any neighbor to happen in on something that was private. Bullock bumped up against the arm of his ratty couch.
"You going to clean yourself up and get dressed for work?" She asked him calmly.
"I can't. Not after what… not after what I did to you." Bullock's eyes darted around the room looking for a path of escape. "Why aren't you angry at me? You should be screaming at me!"
"Would that make you feel better?" Montoya asked.
"Aren't you angry at all? Please, Montoya! You wept on my shoulder, for cryin' out loud! I made you cry! Hit me! I mean it!"
"Bullock." The thought had been there. To lash out at him. Make him hurt. To scream and pound her fists into his solid form. And she was tempted. So tempted to hit him that she had to shake herself free from that. She would not lose control. Not now. She was a better cop then that. Her moment of weakness had been when she'd cried during the act. Now, after all was said and done, there was no going back to alter things. In her mind, it had not exactly been rape. When she'd thought she was doing something to save another's life, she had become a willing participant, no matter that her personal morals had tried to get in the way. "You can't do this to yourself. I was willing. Willing to do anything to save Barbara."
"What now? What do we do now? Go back and work together and act like nothing happened? What about Barbara?" Bullock wanted to know.
"I didn't tell her everything, Bullock." Montoya told him. "No one else has to know. It's no one's business."
"But how could you stand to work with me now?" Bullock hung his head. He felt her press up against him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
"I couldn't stand to work with you then." The hug took the sting out of those words. "Come to work with me."
Bullock hugged her back uncertainly and then was relieved when she pulled away.
"I need a shower."
"Yes. You do."
"Don't suppose you want to, well…"
"No. I don't."
Bullock nodded. "Just checking."
Montoya was glad when Gordon returned. Johnson was an okay guy, but things just seemed to naturally fall into place when Gordon had a hold of things. It had been two days since Valentine's Day. Bullock always tried to make sure there was several arm lengths in between them when they'd be in the same room. It was awkward and she was glad she had an assignment that had her away from her desk for most of her shifts since. She and Bullock hadn't spoken a word to each other either. Luckily, no one noticed. She and Bullock were typically at odds and the precinct was used to the silent treatments by now.
She'd been called into the Commissioner's office within the first hour of her shift that day. Curious, she entered the modest office and closed the door behind her.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" She asked.
Gordon nodded from behind his desk and set a file he'd been reading down on it's surface.
"Just wanted to commend you on the fine work you did on the Pearson case. Bullock dropped it off in my hands almost as soon as I got off the plane. I'm told that Pearson made a plea and the DA's accepted. No appeals, no fuss, no muss. You keep pushing for that promotion, and I'm running out of excuses for not giving it to you. You want in homicide, you earned it. Congratulations, Detective." Gordon stood and shook her hand.
Montoya was amazed. She was in homicide now? It had been what she'd been working towards ever since she'd gotten out of the academy. Bullock's file? What on Earth was in it? She wanted to ask Gordon if she could see the file, but that would look suspicious. She had to go and ask Bullock what the hell was going on. But that meant TALKING to the guilt ridden cop.
Well, she was a homicide detective now, no way was she going to get squeamish on her first day! So she marched over to Bullock's sloppy desk. He was there, hunkered over a mound of paper, looking for a pencil.
A pencil appeared right under his nose and he looked up to see who had offered the item to him. His eyes dropped again to his desk and he hesitated before taking the pencil from the female cop he'd been trying to avoid for the past several days.
"I'm homicide now." She said in way of greeting.
Bullock managed to look pleased, "You do good work."
"So the file for the Pearson affair claims. I just wonder what those claims are."
"The truth. That report you gave me, I fished it outta the trash after… that… day. It was your report I turned in."
Bullock shrugged helplessly, "My way of apologizing. And besides, you DO do good work. Good work should be rewarded. No need to waste your talents where you stagnate. We need you out there, Montoya."
"That's about the nicest thing you've EVER said to me, Bullock." Montoya couldn't help but smile. "Thanks."
Bullock nodded quietly. The tension seemed to have suddenly evaporated… a clearing of the air. He watched her walk off, wondering at her strength.